


A Good Judge of Character

by Lolishoujo16



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, An exercise in characterization, Bad boi Jeno, M/M, Rich boi Jaemin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2019-04-19 17:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14242590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolishoujo16/pseuds/Lolishoujo16
Summary: Na Jaemin does not have a good impression of Lee Jeno.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please indulge my experiment in writing

It prickles along Jaemin's spine: tingles. Maybe shivers. He sneaks a glance—or more appropriately, his glance is stolen, his breath forced into a whisper. These are the tattletale signs of fascination. He knows he’s fucked.

  
The young man stands in front; sloppy uniform, piercings on his ears, an aloof expression. His hair is dyed blond, and he’s the embodiment of the pretty bad boy stereotype. Jaemin hates the pretty bad boy stereotype. He’s always thought they’re unhealthy myths that propagated idealistic notions out of a toxic relationship model, causing the epidemic of heartbroken boys and girls who were either too stupid or media illiterate to grasp the difference between fanfiction and nonfiction. Jaemin was all for Team Realistic and by extension, Team Healthy Relationships. He thinks all of this as quick as the teacher says, “This is our new student, Mr. Lee Jeno. Give him a warm welcome.”

  
And Lee Jeno walks straight down the aisle and plops onto the single vacant seat at the corner back. Jaemin clutches at his sleeve, but smoothes it out shortly after. He resolutely does not spare him a glance.

  
He already hates Lee Jeno for committing what must be among the most cliché tropes of the pretty bad boy archetype: not giving a fuck.

* * *

 

  
Chenle always carpools with him on the way to school and back. They ride the Na’s slick, well-preserved vintage Bentley in the morning, then the Zhong’s flashy, white Benz limo in the afternoon. It’s a concrete show of the difference between Jaemin’s family and Chenle’s clan. Old money versus new money. It was also, by extension, a concrete manifestation of the differences between Jaemin and Chenle. And why they clicked.

  
Compromise.

  
Chenle hates that Jaemin makes the chauffeur stop a block away from school, and that they have to walk the rest of the way all because of Jaemin’s stupid sense of humility and dislike for all things flashy. Chenle does not agree.

  
“I hate that you make your driver stop literally one block away from school and make me walk the rest of the way.” The Chinese boy huffs, pulling at his collar and pouting.

  
Jaemin smiles and flicks his ear. His smile widens when Chenle yelps in pain. “Spoiled brats don’t get to complain.”

  
Chenle crinkles his nose (a cute mannerism. Literally a disgruntled puppy.) and retorts, “You didn’t hear me stopping you when you were ranting about the new boy.”

  
Now Jaemin’s the one who huffs. “That’s different. I can’t stand the pretty bad boys. Like seriously, what’s their problem? Why can’t they just be less cliché?”

  
In a mock show of sympathy, Chenle shakes his head and pats Jaemin’s shoulder. “It’s a natural law, Young Master Na. Where there are rich people, there are poor people. A tale as old as time.”

  
Right before they step through the school gates, Jaemin frowns at Chenle. The Chinese heir blinks in a display of naivety. “What?”

  
“So that’s why we became friends?”

  
“Yeah, but I’m the rich one, okay. Obviously.”

  
Jaemin rolls his eyes. He’s got another exasperating archetype right here.

* * *

 

  
He has to admit that for all his exasperation with Lee Jeno, he does have a bit of a crush on him. He’s too good looking. Ironically, this adds one more tick to Jaemin’s problems with the delinquent. He smoothes his sleeve all throughout their class hours, willing himself not to glance. The tutor back at home raised him better than this.

  
(“Young Master, eyes straight ahead. You don’t want the guests thinking you’re fidgety.”)

  
Steady. He tells himself. Straight ahead, he chants.

  
A blonde blur walks by as the bell rings.

  
Na Jaemin sits in place, staring straight ahead.

  
He gulps.

  
Steady.

  
Then Lee Jeno leans down and smiles right in front of his face.

* * *

  
He remembers Chenle all those years ago, when they were still kids. Haughty and proud, Zhong Chenle demanded his name and pedigree. Unaffected and friendly, Jaemin leaned down, pinched his cheeks, and cooed, “ _Aigoo_ , aren’t you quite the young master?”

  
The Zhongs had loved him ever since.

  
(Since then, the Zhongs had bestowed Jaemin the title of _“The Only Young Man We Would Approve of our Baby Chenle Marrying if He was Gay”_. Now that Chenle _is_ gay, Jaemin wonders what they would think of Jisung.)

  
He remembers meeting with Chenle at that moment because maybe, to his subconscious brain, the connection made sense. They both preempted titles. They both preempted relationships.

  
Jaemin wasn’t sure this was going to be a friendly one.

* * *

  
“Hello,” Lee Jeno greets.

  
Jaemin licks his lips, a nervous tic; and he tries to not notice that Jeno blatantly follows the swipe of his tongue with subtle bedroom eyes. This was never sexual, Jaemin wants to scream. Until you fucking made it so, he wants to screech.

  
Jaemin settles for biting his lip to prevent any more lip licking and potential sexual tension.

  
A corner of Jeno’s lips quirks up and Jaemin wants to cry.

  
“Hello,” Jeno greets again. Grinning.

  
Jaemin blinks and looks straight ahead.

  
“Hi,” he croaks.

* * *

  
“What family is he from?”

  
“Jisung’s a commoner.”

 

  
“…I’m not talking about Jisung.”  
“Then who the hell else— nooo, _no wait_.”

  
“Never mind your little head.”

* * *

  
Lee Taeyong tries too hard to be bad. He never gets the message that he can’t be bad if he tried. Na Jaemin and Zhong Chenle snicker together as Taeyong, student council president and aspiring bad boy, apologizes repeatedly for spraying paint on a hapless passerby.

  
(Why the president would want to vandalize school property, the students had long since stopped trying to figure it out.)

  
“Taeyong-hyung says it’s just one of his high school goals,” Jisung shares.

  
Jaemin and Chenle break out in laughter.

  
Jisung continues to record the incident for disciplinary purposes.

* * *

  
Jaemin walks by the same spot later in the afternoon, on clean-up duty. He almost drops the trash bin as he beholds the fresh and bold block of graffiti decorating the white wall.

  
**NA JAEMIN, YOU’RE PRETTY**

  
Now this, this was done by an actual pretty bad boy. Not an aspiring one.

  
Jaemin scurries away.

* * *

  
It spreads all over social media because _of course_. Jaemin is seething with embarrassment; he feels a bit slighted. The old money mindset is practically seared into his DNA. The number one genetic trait being: _lowkey_.

  
The big, bold, red blocks of graffiti proclaiming his supposed ‘prettiness’ was not lowkey. Na Jaemin was more insulted than flattered.

  
(Chenle had squawked indignantly. “I would kill for Jisung to be that whipped!”)

  
Na Jaemin was not cliché. He wasn’t impressed.

  
“Was it you?”

  
He’s straight to the point. Jeno blinks. “What?”

  
Impatient, Jaemin bites out, “Was it you?”

  
The raised eyebrows slowly come down and relax. Confusion melts into ease. “Well—“

  
Jaemin’s facial muscles tighten. “It’s not romantic.”

  
Lee Jeno’s face switches back to confusion, but now there’s a flush on his cheeks that’s beginning to spread. Jaemin figures it’s probably embarrassment. Or offense. His guess is as good as any.  
He crosses his arms and leans his shoulder on the lockers. He fixes this fucking human personification of one of the most exasperating clichés yet with a stern look. Jaemin has honed it throughout the years.

  
The look you give when you put people in their place.

“It’s not romantic. I’m not the goddamn circus.”

  
(Jaemin pushes himself off and walks away so sassily, Chenle has to roll his eyes in his spot around the corner. He’s been watching the whole time.)

* * *

  
Chenle knows Jaemin isn’t snooty. Far from it. To be honest, he thought his friend would rather, like, choke on siumai before ever admitting he was very wealthy. Extremely wealthy. However, not being snooty didn’t mean Jaemin didn’t have a sense of superiority. The guy wasn’t above using his status to intimidate people into not doing him harm.

  
Case in point: the boy was so scared of harboring a crush on the new bad boy he just had to go confront him by the lockers and shut down what could potentially have been a beautiful and romcom-worthy high school lovefest. Chenle’s mouth settles into a thin line.

  
“What’s your problem?”

  
Jaemin asks, his hand covering a mouthful of Chinese food.

  
“You’re disgusting. God, you do know you’re eating dishes cooked by a Michelin chef we flew in from Hong Kong, right? Have some respect.”

  
Jaemin closes his mouth and smiles, sheepishly. Then he chews extra loud.

  
_“Ugghhhh—!”_

* * *

  
Jeno is so attracted, his heart hurts a bit every time he sees—

  
_There he is!_

  
And today, as always, Na Jaemin looks immaculate, adorable, and majestic. His school uniform is so crisp, Jeno feels like he could get cut by how sharp he looks. How prim. And proper. And goddamn did Jeno have a thing for the prim and proper. He was practically dying in his seat just from ogling him.

  
School had been a bit rough so far, what with people mistaking him for some kind of delinquent when, really, no. From day one, his nerves and clumsiness had produced nothing but judgment after judgment. He was so anxious, and he had not meant to ignore the teacher, oh my god. He didn’t mean to bump into that one upperclassman. He had run away in fear; he had no clue why people thought that was an act of coolness. Or provocation. He wonders briefly at the injustice that is physical appearances. Which speaking of, his fucked up hair courtesy of fucking Donghyuck. The graffiti thing also wasn’t his idea! It was Donghyuck because the guy was too bored to just fuck off. Every damn time.

  
(The day Jaemin effectively told him how pissed he was at the stunt; Jeno bursted into Donghyuck’s bedroom after school. It took hours to get him to breathe normally again. It was safe to say that Donghyuck was wracked with enough guilt to fuel a congregation. But free meals. Yay?)

  
“Just… tell him you like him. Clear up all the bullshit. He’s cool, y’know?”

  
Rubbing his tears, Jeno retorted, “And why should I trust you?”

  
Donghyuck groaned and threw his hands up. “C’mon! Don’t be a bitch. I know you know I’m right.”

  
“He fucking hates me because of you! Your ‘tips’ don’t work! I’m no ‘James Dean’! I’m just a Jeno!”

  
“You look like one—“

  
Jeno finally socked him a good one.

* * *

  
Na Jaemin hates himself because he still has to clutch his sleeve and literally hold back from catching a glimpse of Lee Jeno. He hates that though he was not impressed; he’s still disappointed from the lack of attempt (or rather the complete absence thereof) on Jeno’s part to come onto him again. Jaemin wants to stuff himself full with that Hong Kong Michelin whatever’s cuisine to get rid of all these mixed feelings.

  
(“How much does he cost per hour?”

  
“For god’s sake, Nana, don’t make the chef sound like an escort.”)

  
He waits and never admits it out loud. He marks it mentally in his head: one for one week, two for two, and three for three. The moment he realizes he’s also writing down the hours and calculating for minutes and seconds on his notebook, Jaemin plops his pen down. Then he grabs his head in his hands.

  
This is unseemly. A disgrace, if he was going to be painfully honest.

  
He had known he was fucked since the first day, but he thought it was just the initial fascination that came with having a new and admittedly pretty classmate. Even if it was a cliché he hated, this bad boy was not bad for the eyes.

  
He snuck a peek, then; pretending to twist his back to make his spine pop.

  
And of fucking course, Lee Jeno is staring.

  
Jaemin whips his torso back so fast he feels like he could’ve snapped his spinal cord. Maybe he’d even fall down and moan, ‘I can’t feel my legs,’ like that poor bald mutant from X-Men when he got shot right in the spine.  
The heat climbs up and stains the neatness of his appearance and lays waste to his carefully practiced poker face. It’s a force of nature; how the corners of his lips are being pulled up by some unknown force, the oxygen in his lungs spinning in its confines, the blood flowing in slow motion, clumping in knots, making it hard to breathe; arteries choking and veins constricting. But his heart still beats because there’s nothing more invincible than a human being who’s in the budding throes of love. Excuse me; attraction. His pores decide it’s the best time of the day to produce some much needed sweat.

  
The sight of him clammy and red makes the homeroom teacher so worried, Jaemin is forced to go to the nurse. He passes by Jeno’s desk and his heart hurts some more because he’s got these round eyes that look so concerned, Jaemin almost stops.

  
But he doesn’t.

  
Because he hates clichés.

  
(He silently screams into the pillow once he lies down in the clinic.)

  
Chenle grins like a cat that caught the canary. “You like him so much. You’re doomed.”

  
With the pillow on top of his face, Jaemin mumbles, “How much does the Hong Kong chef cost again?”

  
The grin stretches. He was getting his beautiful, romcom-worthy high school lovefest after all.

* * *

  
Jeno decides it can’t go on forever because if an asshole like Donghyuck can get a boyfriend (and a nice one at that), so. can. he. It takes him two weeks to construct the Perfect Love Slash Apology Letter. Donghyuck snorts. “Dude, just tell him. Those pages are a waste.”

  
“I bet Mark would’ve appreciated a well-written and meaningful love letter. But all he got was this dumb jock, screaming at the top of his lungs like a fucking idiot—”

“Sheesh, way to be touché.”

  
Jeno shoots a glare at his stupid side kick (Donghyuck was demoted. They weren’t best bros anymore.) before skimming over the letter again.

  
_Dear Na Jaemin,_  
_I swear I’m not an asshole—_

* * *

  
“—just a really lame and awkward high schooler who doesn’t know anyone or anything in this intimidating school, except my ~~best friend~~ side kick. He’s not important.” Chenle’s eyebrow furrows.

  
Carefully, he comments, “This guy’s a weirdo.”

* * *

 

  
Mark’s voice sounds grainy from the speakers. On the screen, he’s intently reading the letter out loud, reading with proper diction and flow like the nerd that he is.

  
Donghyuck is so done. But then again, it is kind of hot.

  
“…he was demoted because he’s actually at fault for all of these misconceptions. (That’s true. Donghyuck, leave Jeno alone.) Ahem, he was the one who “advised” me to approach you and he’s the guy who did the graffiti. BUT!! he’s not the one who has feelings for you. The one who’s hopelessly in love is—“

* * *

  
“…me.” Jisung reads softly.

* * *

  
“Not saying he’s entirely at fault; I am too. Because I didn’t accord you the proper respect you deserved and still deserve, actually. But I’m rambling. The point is, Na Jaemin, I like you like a lot. It’s embarrassing. I mean, not that liking you is embarrassing!!! I’m embarrassing. I know I’m like out of your league. I’m very average. But I just wanted to clear up any bad impressions and just admit it to you. You don’t have to reply. Just knowing that you received this will be more than enough for me.

  
Sorry again for being a fake douche. I swear I’m chill. And nice. Thank you.

  
With love (hehe),  
Lee Jeno.”

  
The clock ticks in five, deafening strokes.

  
His fingers begin to tremble, and he holds the letter so hard he slightly crumples the blue bird-patterned stationery.

  
A realization sinks in, then; warmth climbing from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. Tingles in his fingertips where he clutches the love note.

  
Jaemin screams at the top of his lungs as he flings himself down on his mattress, bicycling on air and, well.

  
Love.

* * *

  
“Okay, don’t ask how I obtained your number. This is Na Jaemin.”

  
A series of coughs greets his ears. Jaemin excuses the impolite reply.

  
“Now listen: I like you too…”

  
Suddenly feeling bashful, Jaemin hugs his pillow tighter and swallows.

  
He whispers, “…So, please be my boyfriend?”

  
A squawk is heard from the other end and Jaemin has to refrain from laughing out loud.

  
_“Oh my god, um, please don’t be pressured or anything I’m stupid it was stupid—“_

  
Exasperated, Jaemin interrupts. “Jeno.”

  
_“And really I just—I mean, yeah?”_

  
‘Seriously, just keep quiet and go out with me.”

  
_“…”_

  
“…”

  
_“…”_

  
“Jeno, I can hear you silently screaming. Is that a yes?”

  
“…Y-yeah. It’s cool. Let’s be boyfriends. And stuff.”

  
“And stuff.”

  
Jaemin is so nauseated by the trope of it all, but hey.

  
He could make an exception.

* * *

  
Everyone gets an eyeful of the letter because Jaemin is ecstatic and braggier than they ever thought he could ever be. The boy is whipped; all notions of propriety and prudence thrown out the window the moment he phoned Chenle at two in the morning, screeching about his ‘newfound love’.

  
(The young master Chenle, for all his crankiness at being woken up, snapped that they were kids and bound for a break up. Then he switched the device off and resumed his sleep.)

  
Na Jaemin feels like he’s on top of the world, though.

* * *

  
He picks Jeno up in the mornings now.

  
And to Chenle’s chagrin, they go all the way to the gates of the school.


	2. Prologue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not many people know this, but it took Jisung over five hundred love notes, two hundred treats, and years of pining before he finally bought out Zhong Chenle's affection.

 

Chenle silences him with a glare. 

 

"You're beneath me," he declares. 

 

Park Jisung wakes up in cold sweat. 

* * *

He flips through the pages of the catalogue, indulgence in every flick of his finger. Designer clothes. Jewelry. A watch. Diamond-encrusted shoes. Leather bags. Crocodiles, cows, and rocks. A whole plethora of lifeless things recycled into deceivingly pretty things that people like him snap up and buy anyway, all for the fun of it. 

 

Chenle curls a lock of his hair on his finger,  then he settles on a page. A shadow looms over him. He studies the product: it's an eight million dollar vase originally from the Palace of Versailles. Ceramics always caught his eye. 

 

The description is short and sweet; an invitation to Chenle to seal the deal. The shadow remains. 

 

He's fascinated now, and he reminds himself to tell his father later at night, when he goes home. 

 

(Or maybe he'll just call. It depends on availability.) 

 

The shadow does not move. 

 

Chenle scrutinizes the page for as long as he damn pleases. 

 

"Excuse me," a voice squeaks. 

 

He doesn't look up. 

 

"Um, where's the art room?" 

 

And then he does. 

* * *

Na Jaemin is all up in his personal space, and Chenle is going crazy. No doubt. On the chair across from them, Jeno sits (with freshly dyed black hair, Chenle notes spitefully) like a lap dog with his tongue hanging out, ready to snap at attention the moment Jaemin brandishes a ball. 

 

Where's Jisung when he actually needs him? 

 

(But then, that's all the time. He thinks. Chenle wants to kill himself.) 

 

"For the last time, Young Master Na, I'm not doing it." 

 

Jaemin's infamous pout begins to form, but he's quicker. 

 

Chenle immediately reaches out and pinches his lips closed to destroy the pout. "I'm not having it," he states. 

 

Jaemin shakes out of his hold, disgruntled. He stands up and joins his boyfriend on the other side. Chenle can practically see the boy's tail wagging. 

 

"It's just a party," Jaemin whines. 

 

He sneers, "It's a ritual for lowlives, that's what it is." 

 

Carefully, Chenle peels the orange. He does it deliberately; a quirk Jaemin has always made fun of. He remembers crying when Jaemin first did, back when they were seven and eight, respectively. The memory makes him smirk. 

 

"Anyway, I'm not going and I don't plan on having anything to do with it. Not the least bit. Alright?" He pauses in peeling, leveling Jaemin with a look. 

 

His best friend concedes defeat, shrugging and melting against Jeno's side. "Fine," he sighs. 

 

Lunch ends and Chenle is still stuck on the same question. 

 

"Where's Jisung?"

\---

"Jaemin-hyung told me about the party." 

 

Chenle groans out loud. "Ignore Nana. It's nothing." 

 

"...Are you sure?" Jisung mumbles. 

 

The car's engine hums. They rock lightly as they go along. 

 

Chenle leans his head on Jisung's shoulder. "I'm sure." 

 

Jisung locks his pinky with his. 

* * *

"I like you!" 

 

"You said the same thing last week. I know." 

* * *

Park Jisung writes the notes with as much sincerity he can muster from his birdbrain. He's writing under the light of his dim desk lamp, and he feels sleepy. A box lays open by his side. 

 

He notices it's not as full as he'd like it to be. He's filled with renewed determination. 

 

A one-track mind. Attached as a chick. 

 

His mother called him her "birdbrain". 

 

He'd always been the type of kid to be obsessed with anything he got fond of, whether it was a toy, a storybook, or a shirt. His mother had plenty of stories to tell about his comical adventures of varying interests, such as the time he spent an entire day keeping watch over his teddy bear as it dried out in the sun, or how he superglued the joints of his favorite action figure to prevent it from falling apart. The sad ending to these tales was that his excessive love and care would always bite him back in his birdbrained ass. 

 

They were ruined. 

 

The action figure was immobile. The teddy bear became rugged and torn. The books were crumpled and the clothes outstretched beyond form. 

 

His mother ended the stories with a fond tone and a gentle warning. "Don't be too much of a birdbrain, Jisungie." 

 

He had learned to control his fixations as he grew up, but now it was happening again. He feels he owes an apology to his poor, sweet mother.

 

He finishes the 300th love note for Zhong Chenle and he drops it in the box.

* * *

"At least I'm not a creep about it!" he protests. 

 

Taeyong exchanges glances with Doyoung. 

 

"Yeah sure," Doyoung laughs. Taeyong cracks a smile. 

 

Jisung feels a strong urge to hurl the stapler at the two of them. 

 

Doyoung starts, "As your mother--"

 

"You're not my mom."

 

"--it hurts me. Why do you keep going after the snootiest kid in school?" 

 

(Off to the side, Jaehyun comments, "Yeah, really.")

 

Taeyong hands Jisung a stack of papers. He snatches them with more force than necessary.

 

"Gotta agree with Doyoung on this one, kid. What's with you?" Taeyong raises his eyebrows before resuming writing. Jisung sighs and rests his chin on his fist. 

 

"It's just a crush; what's so bad about me having one?" 

 

"That you literally spend nights not sleeping coming up with gifts."

 

"You're obsessive?" 

 

Taeyong and Doyoung exchange glances, then a hi-five. 

 

Jisung scowls and retorts, "I'm not--"

 

(Jaehyun, with his head inside the storage box, "You are!") 

 

He rolls his eyes and resolves to start the task at hand. "What's wrong with making an effort?" 

 

Jaehyun plops the large box on the desk next to Jisung's, and he answers, "When you make too much." 

 

His hyung ruffles his head. This time, Jisung whacks him with the stack of papers. 

* * *

Chenle doesn't like commoners because they wouldn't know sophistication even if it hit them in the face. 

 

This boy is different. 

 

He tracks his movements the entire day; thrilled and curious. He really, really wants to talk more with him. He's almost tempted to ditch Jaemin for lunch if it means he can chat the guy up. 

 

Politely, he informs Jaemin of the matter. 

 

"You would abandon lunch with me for a crush?" He's incredulous. 

 

"We're having dinner together. Chin up, loser." 

 

Jaemin turns his nose up at him, but his frown turns into a grin. "You've never even properly met him." 

 

Chenle presses his lips together. "Well, yeah genius that's why I want to talk to him." 

 

Jaemin stuffs his mouth with a bite of siopao before squinting at his friend. "Who are you and what have you done to Master Chenle?" 

 

In response, Chenle makes a face and throws a napkin at him. "Don't talk with your mouth full! You're so gross!" 

 

Jaemin laughs. Then he chokes. 

 

Chenle sighs as he pats Jaemin's back.

 

Jaemin wipes his mouth with the napkin. "I'm just amazed. I can't believe this snooty, overbearing--" 

 

"Keep insulting me, go on." 

 

"--young master with eliticitis is willing to go down to a 'commoner's' level. To flirt." 

 

"If they're hot, they're elite enough for me." 

 

The crush bloomed on the day the pretty boy asked him where the art room is. His face was soft and his cheeks flushed; he had these doe eyes framed by delicate lashes and man, he was in over his head. 

 

Chenle took him all the way to the art room, and he never did that for anyone. Not even Jaemin. The young master, before that point, had never exerted any form of effort to escort anyone, much less a commoner. 

 

This was different. 

 

He was different. 

 

"You say he's different, but is he, really?" 

 

He came to a decision. Resolute; Chenle pushes his chair back and fixes his gaze on the boy across the room. "He is," Chenle murmurs. 

 

Jaemin shakes his head, but his back is already turned. 

* * *

Jisung gazes at Chenle as he makes his way across the cafeteria. 

 

He wonders, "Wow, he's so pretty."

* * *

"I'm not jealous." 

 

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, pouting and bending lower over his notes. Doyoung scoffs over the rim of his cup. To make a point, he drags the notebook from under Jisung's arm, making him slip forward. Annoyed, he exclaims, "Hey!" 

 

Doyoung holds the notebook wide open in front of Jisung. "Jisung, there is literally a crude doodle of he-who-must-not-be-named full of holes. And bruises. You're so passive-aggressive about it, you put me to shame." 

 

Jisung musters a glare, then he snatches the notebook back. Resolute; he bends over his notes again and mutters, "I'm not jealous." 

 

"Zhong Chenle already said he wasn't going, didn't he?" 

 

"Yeah, hyung. Drop it already." 

 

"But you said you don't mind if he does. So which is it, Park Jisung?" 

 

Groaning, Jisung plops his pen down and whines, "Hyung, stop nagging me! Chenle can do whatever he wants. I don't care. And I'm not jealous!" 

 

Doyoung smirks and says, "So if I tell you Jaehyun told me that a certain someone plans on visiting the school tomorrow just to convince your boyfriend to go, you're okay with that?"  

 

A beat. 

 

Jisung slowly raises his eyes and his forehead furrows, line by line. His glasses slips down his nose. An eye twitches. "What the fuck." 

 

"Language, Jisung-ah." 

 

Darkly, Jisung declares, "Outsiders aren't allowed. Not in this academy." 

 

"Oh, now you care." 

 

"Who cares?" Another voice chirps. 

 

Jaehyun saunters to their table, a pleasant smile on his face. After setting his own cup down, he sits beside Doyoung. He looks back and forth between him and the baby of their small group. Raising his eyebrows, he asks, "Well?" 

 

"Jisung's being a big, green-eyed, passive-aggressive boyfriend." 

 

"I'm just being a responsible officer. If he wants to come to our school, he should be coming due to official business, not some impulse to see a... A--!" 

 

"A, what?" 

 

Spitefully, Jisung spits, "An old buddy!" 

 

Jaehyun bursts into laughter while Doyoung rolls his eyes as hard as he can. 

 

"Hyung, it's not funny!" 

 

Jaehyun, much to his irritation, pinches his cheek. "You're just so cute--!"

 

Jisung bats his hand away. 

 

"Anyway," Jisung adjusts his glasses, "I'm not having it."

 

Then he returns to his notes.

 

Jaehyun and Doyoung share a glance. 

 

("Chenle's really rubbing off on him. It scares me." 

 

"Not a surprise. Those kids are obsessed with each other.")

* * *

Na Jaemin is stuffing his face full with lobster. Chenle is losing his appetite by the second.

 

"Nana. Just one, well-mannered dinner is all I ask." 

 

Jaemin has the audacity to give him the universal hand sign for "It's okay,".

 

Jaemin swallows the food and takes a dainty sip of water from the glass (Baccarat, brand new, and polished to perfection) before sighing, "Chenle, I can't help it. The food is so good, and you know how comfy I get with you--" 

 

"Too comfy, that is. You'd think you would be the prissier one--" 

 

"Trust me, everybody knows you're the prissier one." 

 

Chenle flicks a grain of rice at him. 

 

Jaemin waggles his eyebrows and comments, "Ooh, classy." 

 

Chenle gives him the look. Jaemin grins and returns to devouring his lobsters. 

 

Five minutes later, silverware clinking in what Chenle thought would finally continue into peace and silence, his best friend pipes up again. "So, he called you? Have you told Jisung?" 

 

He knew it was coming, but it still doesn't stop him from choking on the bit of lobster in his esophagus. Chenle pats his chest, reaches for a glass, and-- 

 

"You haven't told him, have you?" 

 

Chenle takes a long, long sip-- 

 

"Oh geez, Chenle, come on. You can do better than that." 

 

He takes the napkin and dabs, gently, at his-- 

 

"So this means you also haven't told Jisungie about the exhibit? How you're going to be a special guest and all that?"

 

Chenle keeps the napkin on his mouth. He bows his head, staring at the plate. 

 

Jaemin presses his lips together,  shakes his head, and digs into his lobster again. "You're in deep shit." 

 

"You've been hanging out with Jeno too much." 

 

("Nana, it's not like it's a secret. The posters are literally everywhere."

 

"Yeah, and Jisung's not stupid. He's most likely waiting you out." 

 

Chenle exhales. Why couldn't he have a dumber boyfriend like Jeno?) 

* * *

"Hi!" Chenle chirps. 

 

He takes a quick glance at the boy's nametag. 

 

"Renjun!" 

 

He plasters the biggest and brightest grin he can manage on his face. When the boy in front of him smiles back, Chenle feels humbled. The young man is an angel. He feels like a troll in comparison. 

 

He's never felt like he's below anyone, before. 

 

"Hello," he greets back. He smiles, and the snaggle tooth is the cutest thing, even cuter than pandas, that Chenle has ever seen up close. He swallows and he's horrified to realize that his cheeks feel warm. 

 

Renjun-- _Huang Renjun_ \-- furrows his forehead and waves a hand in front of him. "Hello?" 

 

Chenle snaps to attention, and he thinks he can hear faint snorts from his table with Jaemin. He grimaces, which makes the boy (of his dreams) give him a bewildered look. 

 

"Um, did I do something?" 

 

Chenle flaps his hands in disagreement. "No, no, no! I just-- remember? Last time?" 

 

Renjun tilts his head, then his eyes widen in remembrance. "Oh yeah! It was you! Thanks for-- oh, what are you doing! Sit!"

 

Chenle takes the seat across from him, and his grin spreads from ear to ear.

 

Jaemin scoffs in the distance.

 

(" 'How was the art room? Did you like the equipment? The food? Would you like a foot massage, oh Lord Huang Ren--' "

 

"I swear to god Na Jaemin, I will tie you to the back of this limo and have the chaffeur drag you all the way to the gates of your house.")

* * *

Doyoung frowns. "How much work does he plan on getting done? Jesus." 

 

Jisung's eyes reflect the light of the laptop's screen as his fingers fly across the keyboard, punching keys and encoding data. On his desk, there's a thick binder of papers with the side full of colorful sticky markers. Doyoung, Jaehyun, and Taeyong look on in worry from outside the door. Their youngest officer continues to type as if in a trance. 

 

Taeyong comments, "Wow. At this rate, the kid can probably run the council and the school all by himself." 

 

Doyoung turns on him. "Just how much work did you assign to him?! He's the treasurer, I get it, but--" 

 

Quickly, Taeyong throws his hands up, "Whoa, whoa! Don't blame me! He asked for the extra work. He said he wanted to help out because he was bored." 

 

"And so you leave the entire financial plan of our school festival in his hands?! That's your answer?!" 

 

Taeyong whines, "What do you want me to do? He was really insistent!" 

 

"Lee Taeyong, don't pull that card--!" 

 

"Do you two seriously not know?"

 

Abruptly, they both stop and turn to Jaehyun.

 

"What?" They both question. 

 

Jaehyun sighs. 

 

"Chenle just started dating the new kid. Huang Renjun?"

* * *

"Mom, I'm sorry."

 

The smoke of incense floats upwards. 

 

Jisung bows his head in silence.

* * *

Carefully, he dusts the picture frame, then wipes it down with a cloth. Afterwards, Jisung replaces it softly, almost reverently. He puts the rag and duster aside. He straightens up. 

 

"Mom, today, give me the strength to not punch that stupid--no, I mean--to not let my temper get the best of me." 

 

He searches his mother's eyes and her smile, willing her to answer. 

 

He nods as if he's heard it. 

 

"Fighting!" 

 

As always, he bows deeply. 

 

He exits the door with resolve in every step. 

 

"I will not be jealous. Chenle can do whatever he wants." Jisung chants. 

 

Strangers back away as he marches down the street.

* * *

"Easier said than done," Chenle mutters. 

 

He's been waiting for Jisung since he arrived in school. Now that he sees him walking down the corridor, uniform neatly pressed and hair combed into that prim bowlcut, Chenle gulps. 

 

Zhong Chenle, you've not been raised to be a cheat! He hears his father yelling at him. 

 

Honesty. No tricks, no secrets. 

 

Jisung's already caught sight of him; the corners of his lips quirk up and his eyes crinkle a tiny bit. Chenle can't help smiling back. 

 

How could he ever lie to someone like Park Jisung? Chenle feels a pang in his chest. 

 

"Jisung-ah," 

 

The boy's smile drops upon seeing the serious expression on Chenle's face. However, the seriousness is quickly replaced by impishness as Chenle demands, "Skip first period. Come with me." 

 

And Jisung has always been nothing but indulgent with the young master's whims. 

\--- 

"Stop leaving gifts in my locker! I've tried to be nice about it, but now I just feel like you're overstepping it." 

 

Chenle pins him with a glare. 

 

Jisung's shoulders slump in defeat. 

 

For what seems like an eternity, the room is quiet. 

 

"...Is there really no hope? For me?" 

 

Jisung peers at him.

 

Chenle pinches the bridge of his nose and leans on the desk. "Park Jisung, for your information--" 

 

"I know you're with the new guy. But--" 

 

"Then why are you still bugging me? It's--!" 

 

"I just--!" 

 

Jisung's mouth hangs open. Red begins to bloom on his cheeks and ears. Chenle squints and eggs him on. "Just what?!" 

 

Jisung scratches the back of his head and he murmurs, "I just like you so much. That's it." 

 

Flustered, Chenle tries to retort or snap, but no words come out. 

 

"I like you so much... I don't want to just give up."

 

"No one's asking you to stop liking me. Just back off."

 

Jisung clenches his fists. Chenle stares at him and declares,

 

"You're beneath me."

 

It's almost like a punch in the gut; the way his words take ahold of him. It's not his ego that makes him feel this hurt, it's his stupid heart and his stupid birdbrain; pages filled with computations of the probability of Chenle ever liking him back. The naive belief that his feelings would be reciprocated, if he was sincere enough. It's a pile of boxes filled with love notes and a hundred small treats that make him feel this way. It's not low self-esteem, not a fragile ego, not a sense of wasted effort, and most certainly not out of a sense of offense. It's love that makes him feel this way: hurt, crushed, tearful. Sad.

 

Jisung bites his lips and directs his gaze to the floor.

 

Chenle clears his throat and begins to make his way to the door. Grasping the doorknob, Chenle offers, "Well, if it's any comfort to you, I think anyone else would be lucky to have you. See you at assembly." 

 

Jisung stares at the door long after he's gone. He's tearing up a bit; it's alright. It's normal, he tells himself. First loves hardly ever end up well, he thinks.

 

And if it's any comfort, he reminds himself, his first love just told him anyone would be lucky to have him. 

 

(The sleeve of his uniform dampens.) 

* * *

"...I like Jisung more. Cuter. Not pretentious. Smarter--" 

 

"Jaemin, would you rather walk home?" 

* * *

I will not be jealous. 

 

Through gritted teeth. 

 

Chenle can do whatever he wants. 

 

"Is that alright with you?" Chenle grabs his arms and looks up into his eyes, the puppy dog gaze in full effect. 

 

There are so many things that Jisung wants to ask. Why did you keep it for so long. Don't you know I knew. Why didn't you tell me sooner. Is it because you still like-- 

 

"Are you representing your family?"  

 

Chenle looks away. "Um, it's personal." 

 

Did he ask you out the moment he went back here. Did you talk. Was you talking shit about the party all just an act-- 

 

"I-I'm really not going to the party though! It's just the exhibit because he's still a friend and he says the support would be very helpful to the gallery and our collection and we have that art foundation charity and--" 

 

"You're rambling."

 

Chenle snaps his mouth shut. 

 

Jisung kisses him on the forehead. "Why are you so nervous? I'm not mad. I know you really like those types of things, anyway." 

 

He beams at Jisung and pulls him into a hug. "Jisung, you're the best! An absolute darling!" 

 

Aren't you going to invite me. Aren't you going to tell me I can come even if he's your date. Won't you at least tell me you thought of me and you have extra tickets and I can be there and you want me there-- 

 

"Look here! I have a catalogue. You can choose anything and I'll give it to you." 

 

Eagerly, Chenle holds out the catalogue. 

 

Shakily, Jisung takes it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung is just a clingy sweetheart. chenle doesn't know what he's missing ;-;
> 
> i don't know if it's just me, but i think at least some of us have experienced wanting to be a bit clingy but holding back in fear of being pushed away or seen as annoying/possessive. it's with this kind of feeling that i wrote jisung's character. it's just sad really. but jisung will have his time. this poor lil chick :((


End file.
